"My name is August Gamoll," the man said. Somehow the name was familiar. He should recognize it, Buckmaster thought. Abruptly he did.
"What are you trying to do?" Buckmaster asked harshly. "Make a small-time hero of yourself with this grandstand play?"
"Not at all," Gamoll answered. "I'm the long shot Oliver mentioned."
"You're lying."
"Then how would I know what Oliver said?"
"It may be a lucky guess. Why should I trust you?"
"Mainly because you have no choice. What have you got to lose?" He was a cool character.
Buckmaster shrugged. He hated this playing it blind, but the fellow was right. "O.K.," he said. "You might as well take your hands down. Let's go."
They went down the stairs. At the rear exit Gamoll looked out. He wore no hat. The wind from the alley fluffed the hair on the side of his head.
"All clear," Gamoll said. "Make a dash for it. When you get in the carriage lie low. Now!"